


Say What You Need To Say

by larienelengasse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larienelengasse/pseuds/larienelengasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you just have to wait for the right time to say what you need to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say What You Need To Say

**Author's Note:**

> This could possibly be construed as Wincest, but it’s not about sex. I’m just trying to capture the “epic love story” of Sam and Dean, to use Sera Gamble's words. Post-apocalypse. Title from a GORGEOUS song by John Mayer, entitled “Say.”

Sam leaned against the door of the Impala, window down, classic rock blaring from the radio. The tape deck finally died a week back, and in the middle of the post-apocalypse Midwest they considered themselves lucky to have even found a functioning radio station. They had located the tower on the horizon and driven straight there, but it was abandoned, the prerecorded tape played in a loop, transmitting music for none to listen. Dean didn’t have the heart to turn it off.

Dean’s fingers drummed out the rhythm of “Only You Can Rock Me” as Sam’s foot tapped the floorboard and his knee bobbed up and down in time to the music. Sam saw Dean smirk. Yeah, all right, so Dean’s old school rock finally rubbed off on him. He smiled a little and saw Dean nod in approval out of the corner of his eye.

As UFO faded, the anthem-blast of Patty Smythe’s powerful voice hailing “I Am the Warrior!” blared out over the speakers. Sam laughed, tilting his head back as he slapped his thigh, watching as Dean’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Dean shook his head and decided he wouldn’t fight it, and he raised his voice in song:

“Shootin’ at the walls of heartache…. I am the warrior!”

Sam shook his head and joined in. “Shootin’ at the walls of heartache, Bang! Bang!”

Sam watched as the endless Midwest landscape unfolded before them, and he saw smoke on the horizon. Perfectly timed, Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” blared over the radio.

“Now that’s more like it!” Dean grinned, cranking the volume. 

Sam saw a bright blue sign up ahead, emblazoned with a yellow sunflower and large white letters that proclaimed: “Welcome to Kansas.” He turned and looked at Dean, whose youthful enthusiasm for a warm, sunny day and rock and roll blaring loud faded.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” Dean answered, and he pulled the car off the road.

Sam didn’t say anything as Dean got out of the car. He watched his brother walk around her slowly, fingers trailing reverently over her smooth, black lines. 

“You and me, we’ve been through a lot, baby,” he said softly. “My earliest memories are of you.” He rounded the front of the car. “You’ve always been there, always got me out, always took care of me…” he paused as he passed the passenger seat, then he looked back and saw Sam’s steady, comforting gaze in the side view mirror, “… and Sam.” He turned his gaze straight ahead, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, the scent of sage grass and pungent oak filling his nostrils, the sound of her engine ticking as she cooled causing a pang inside him. “It’s been a long road, a hard one often, but I wouldn’t change it.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he whispered, his hand resting on the warm lid of the trunk. “I’m gonna say goodbye now, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to later. I can’t stand the thought of you getting busted all to Hell.” He shook his head. “No, I ain’t letting that happen to you.” He straightened his spine and looked up at the bright blue sky. “I’m taking you home now, baby.” He walked briskly around to the driver’s side and climbed in, turning the key and closing his eyes as the engine rumbled to life. 

Sam reached across and squeezed his shoulder and Dean turned and looked at his little brother. Sam smiled and Dean nodded and pulled back onto the highway.

* * * *

Dean pulled the heavy garage door closed and placed a padlock on it. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to steal his baby, but it felt like the right thing to do. He placed his hand on the door and felt his heart constrict. He had brought her home, to the garage that his dad had taught him about cars in, where she had been parked every night until their mom died. 

Dean turned and looked up at the window where Sam’s nursery once was, where the long strange trip had begun, and then turned his gaze to Sam, who stood under the big, craggy oak next to the house. Sam’s gaze was turned skyward, hands in his pockets, looking impossibly huge when Dean remembered how small Sam had felt that night as he ran out the front door, clutching him to his chest.

“I wonder what will happen to the world?” Sam asked, turning in small circle and watching the sunbeams filter through the leaves. “I like to think it will be better, without us. Maybe God will wipe it clean and start over. Maybe, maybe humans will do it better the second time, if He gives them another chance.”

Dean’s hands were shaking, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew this was best, that they couldn’t keep hiding, keep running. They couldn’t live what life they had left sleeping in filthy abandoned buildings and scrounging canned food or anything else they could eat that hadn’t spoiled months ago. No, they were going to die as they had always lived, on their feet, back to back, guns blazing. 

Still, he couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eyes as Sam looked at him. Sam was so unafraid, so sure. Dean wasn’t afraid to die - hell, he’d done that several times already, even if he only remembered the one. It was knowing he’d watch Sam die again, that was what was breaking him in two, stealing his breath, making him ache inside. He felt like a coward for hoping he’d go first.

Sam crossed the distance between them quickly, striding over the driveway and catching Dean by the shoulders as Dean slumped into him. “Fuck, Sam,” Dean murmured hoarsely.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing him tightly. Sam turned his head and whispered, “Say it, Dean. You need to say it.”

Dean just shook his head, wanting to scream because even now, even with what was about to happen, he still couldn’t say the words.

“Say it, Dean. Say what you need to say.”

Dean took a deep breath. “I love you, Sam,” he said, quietly, softly.

Sam’s own tears were falling freely now, and he drew Dean even closer, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done. Thank you for taking care of me, for never giving up on me, for showing me what I could be.”

Dean’s fingers closed in fists in Sam’s jacket and he answered, “Thank you for being here, Sam. Thank you for coming back.”

They didn’t say anything else, because that was all that was left. As they walked down the driveway, armed to the teeth, shotguns and knives and holy water in their hands, Sam was right behind Dean, right at his back, right where he always should have been, would have been had he known, and where he had spent the last five years. 

They turned and walked toward town in the middle of the deserted street, sun shining, birds singing, the last two people on earth, going to meet their maker.

~Finis


End file.
